Before Your Eyes Mortal
by dmlwel
Summary: This is the future, but it is no longer one of the original humans. Evolution has led to the Immortal race, the Serephimral Humans, and lives past Earth into the further galaxies. In this new time, one is born, with a rare genetic condition rendering her the only real mortal alive, able to live, and more importantly, die. Meet Haylight, the last mortal among the immortals...
1. Chapter 1

My mother has told me I am one in a million or less. She knew the day she had me I was special and would be so important, but technically so did every deliverer in the room. The way you could see the smallest veins through my reddened baby skin, and the fact that I even flushed or cried to begin with, I was one in a million or less. I was actually one in 4,697,234,568. It had been over a thousand years across time since my kind has been born. Across so many planets spinning and galaxies alive my arrival was announced along with my rare genetic condition. Haylight Merouthzer, born with a pulse, a heartbeat, a vulnerability that had not been seen by the human Serephimral in over one thousand years, is famous. Mortal was now walking and stumbling amongst the mass, Stumbling being a good word to describe me.

This is the story of my arrival, and awakening, and falling I guess. I arrived one in over a million, awakened to the reality of what I was too many and what I really was to me, and fell, I guess, in his presence, those dark abysses he calls his eyes. He hates that phrase, we are even, and he calls me star.

If you see someone a little too pale amongst you, the glorious evolution, I don't apologize for waking up and taking a breath. I never intended to come in your world and interrupt those perfect thoughts, those perfect lives. I never intended to be a celestial celebrity, a science experiment, or another tragedy for such a man; I never intended to do anything. I was just born, that is my only act against any of you.

When I was six, I remember one moment that really made me realize I was either a mistake or a great phenomenon, can you imagine what that was for a six year old? Holding my mother's hand, mid-day with the first moon above with its purple light, and the sun, our sun, to the east, connecting their lights of purple to whitish yellow, I remember the beauty of the collision of the colors. I thought I could color it with my crayons for my mom. She held my hand tightly, as always, as we headed to the park of glass slides, clear blue like nanowater. I loved those slides, imagining a world where people could slide on water, dreaming things I never could see in the worlds I know now. My mother was always so protective, holding my hand, even on the slide. She…she let go that day, just once, I had begged her to. Around the first curve of the glass slide, a little too fast and with too much excitement, I fell. All I saw when I opened my eyes on the ground was her feet coming to me, and I then heard that cry in her voice.

"Haylight! Speak! I'm right here; let's get you to the Conservatory now!" She scooped me up, and in the haze of the moment and head pain I was in I looked down. There, where I fell, was the crimson spot. Blood, red thick blood spotted the ground. This was my phenomenon, mine came out, it could break out of my body because of the most random accidents, and it would mark anything it touched. It was a mortal spot, and it terrified all others on the playground that day. No one bleeds anyone but me.

Immortals, or Serephimral Mortals as properly titled, do not bleed out. They only age until completion, or 21. One egg to every female, one day of delivery for one child a piece, and then they live and raise them and travel and learn infinitely. Each has One day, a birth day, and then a million ordinary ones or more for them to live. I have at least two days that mark me, birth day and the day I die. What I wouldn't give for, heck, a third day. My days, though, are extraordinary, I always have someone marveling at me, at my blood, my brain, my allergies, the fact that I can accidently choke on food, that water does taste to me. Rain calms me, fire hurts me, and I age, and break, and fall in love, but for me all of that is limited, and well, precious.

They say space is infinite, full of galaxies, ones we have yet to make it to. I wonder, if somewhere out there, I am not alone in my kind. What would the galaxies do if it found another one of me? Would there be other experiments, or could I maybe be normal? Would there be another celebrity who faces death? Would he have another future tragedy to await besides me? Here I stand, in front of hundreds of time capturers and screens; I stand tall, pale eyed, freckled, abnormal, and with that freakish red-fire hair. I stand to all of the world, friends, fans, oppositions, before your eyes…mortal, and every bit more alive than any of you will ever know….


	2. Chapter 2

Find my voice, ok. Find it in a sea of individuals who have had a lifetime to find theirs, oh and make mine stand out. Make it soft, yet powerful, and soothing, yes they like soothing a lot. Make it intelligent, and honest, and charismatic, make them love me, I get to be preserved longer if I do that well. Within my voice, unlike my body, is the power to live like they do. If they give me permission, if I behave and play to fascination, I go on and live well. If I make friends with him I get more positive points, with that man, the guardian.

Make friends with him? Really? The man who races across galaxies with light and visits stars just to watch them burn out, the one who let the last human fall and die and did absolutely nothing to stop her. I cannot fathom any kind of relationship with that immortal, one so famous for being self-absorbed. His name is on the tongue of every star trend, and on the peak of my every nightmare, his name is Caveronne. His name is Caveronne and he let her die, so why should I be any different with him?

He has lived 88,965 lifetimes compared to the meager one lifetime I get. I know he knows so much and I could learn from him, but I am scared he doesn't understand me at all, not just that I am just this precious mortal, but I am alone and angry as hell that the universe could still allow this kind of life among perfect ones. I breathe, I stumble, I scrape myself, I cry, I lose my voice from shouting, I die, and Caveronne has never and will never within all his lifetimes experience things so mortal, he is cold and just existing.

Walking passed Gate 457 into the entrance of his city, Roaga, I feel the temperature drop. His ice cold self has seeped into the very city he helped build, so of course it is made of ice. The green sky above us is not exactly what I would call soothing, almost eerie, even for normal it's eerie. This is the moment I think I will remember as the moment I should have ran back to the carrier, the moment that changes everything for the bad. Walking under a sign announcing the arrival into the moment, a large platinum sign silvery and frozen with the words 124 Caveronne Hemestisis Rome, I guess here it is.

For every highly guarded building there are two sets of doors, one made of diamonds and one make of mirrors. Our race has done this as a reminder of the mortality it is supposed to keep though it has surpassed even death. The door of diamonds, a beautiful, strong representation of what the world is supposed to look like. The door of mirrors, a reflection of what the world actually is. This is to maintain the understanding everyone as immortals can appear one way and be another, a sign of the original human gene in all.

Caveronne's home has three doors. You pass the door of diamonds, to face the door of mirrors, and open to what was supposed to be a home. Instead you face the third door, one made of black, shiny, cold tungsten.

I look to the transporter IM next to me, tall, lean and perfectly golden tan, perfect yet generic as every other immortal is. I wait to ask but know this answer will be worth hearing one way or another. "Why the third door for him?"

The transporter IM, still, not flinching, not even looking to respond, says, "Tungsten is dark, revered as beautiful, and it breaks, actually it damages very easily. Caveronne never forgave himself for the last one of your kind, she was his breaking. Rumor is the third door is the door to his soul."

What a completely non creepy way to meet him. I see his soul before I see his face, and it's a door. It is a self-righteous, conceited and glorifying display of the man I am being entrusted to. We walk down the corridor of walls made of black glass, diamond neon lights lining them, almost the color of the sky outside. He made his home colder than even his world. Dark, nothing warm or comforting here, nothing to attract and keep anyone, kind of like him I guess….

In a room of dark blue at the end of a three curved dark hallway is a man of gold skin and muscle, short gold reflecting warm brown hair, and perfect posture. He is still, and studying something on a large white table. Crimson tunic and pants, the color of blood, he probably forgot that.

"Announcing the arrival of Haylight Herothzer, mortal." Thank you speaker, as if this man did not know this. His feet turn first, followed by the typical stiff turn of the rest of the body. This is how immortals turn, or do anything, so very stiff. Facing me is now a perfectly carved out face, with cheeks that cut and lips dense and full enough to be a wall. Then I see his eyes, dark and wide and black, or brown, so close either way no color is escaping. You can get lost in a deep dark abyss looking at him. The thing is, if you get lost in him, stories have it you die. At least mortal does.

He approaches slowly and with precision, no doubt in step. Robotic, emotionless, and very mechanical looking the way he looks at me. I have seen erythyrobots analyze new viruses the way he is staring at me.

"Haylight Herothzer of Therodon in the Gylipsyo Galaxy, welcome. Warm, where you are from, right?" He is noticing my shivering and Goosebumps I guess. "We have thicker tunics, and even large coats here. I had some predesigned in your measurements two days ago. No need to die from hypothermia here." He motions us toward a side hallway from the living room. Another moment or two down a dark hallway and we approach a golden looking door. I can feel the air change, it no longer raises my skin, and it warms it. Caveronne unlocks the door and behind it is a soft blue room with the galaxies painted in perfect scientific match on the ceiling. I could fall asleep on the new pristine white bed underneath the galaxy of my mother; I haven't seen her in so long.

I could sleep right now, with all this new information about a new home and a new guardian and a new purpose. I wonder what kind of dreams would await me here, of the future ahead, all the addressing posts, the wonders in my blood, all which would and could define me. My life and dreams have never actually been mine; the world gave them to me. They gave me a life of infamy, and a way for my name to live on even past the point I would physically. The dreams the universe gave me would be of changing a part of modern medicine, being a small past of the galactically history, of other worlds I would never live to see but could technically see everything about me. I am basically a temporary one-way looking glass. I am here for a period of time, and one side can see everything, the other is left without a hint. What a lucky life I lead.

My mind searches for better dreams tonight. I want to see Lanada, planet of ice and fire, where one side constantly burns from gases being ignited by eruptions, and the other stays frozen due to the dry ice of the land. There is a city there where you stand on a mountain, and all around you is lake and land, and on one side is the fires below, the other the ice leading down many mountains. The lake drips and falls slowly, some droplets freezing and dangling from cliffs from extreme freezes. Great storms erupt over the city, where the hot and cold airs collide. Tundra spirals sometimes destroy all but the great buildings. Only on Lanada do actual Tundra spirals still exist, though, legend has it, the ancient planet of Earth seen them, once called storms, more specifically tornadoes. This is the land I want to visit tonight, the modern land of fire and ice. I want to see something peaceful and thrilling all at once. I want to be somewhere worth dreaming of while some there dream of me, the mortal woman.

It is cold where I am, though; I am not on a hill overlooking fire and ice. I am on a flat piece of land, and there are green hills, covered in soft vegetation around me. It's the same dream I have had since my childhood, the blue-haired woman is walking toward the frozen ocean, emotionless. I scream at her, all sound from me frozen but the sound of strained air. She will walk towards danger, just one I will never see. I feel it, her doom, her sadness, her ending and pain, just ahead, but she never shows it to me. There, same spot as always, the left upper shoulder, is the writing embedded on her in dark blue with the words, "In God We Meet Again." Please, don't leave me here, I think to myself.

I wake in the warmth of the pale blue room, the chill of the dream glacier still lingering inside me. I know I am not supposed to know the dream girl, but I do. There is the legend of the last natural born human, and her deep sadness that drove her into a dying ocean seeking peace. Restora, the rebel of the human race, with olive skin, hair long and waved and dyed blue and sea green eyes that matched her death. She longed for company that could know her, and the universe was cruel about that. Her parents were almost like a protected species of humans, the last pair, and Restora was the only child. They died from a virus off Neptune when she was 13, guardians kept her from then on. Legend also says a brave man was her last guardian, he was beautiful and strong and compassionate, and he drove her into that ocean seeking end. No one knows why she did that exactly, but all know who witnessed it, the last guardian, Caveronne. He may just drive me into my own ocean for all they know, maybe that's what they all want, and maybe I am just here with him for entertainment's sake.

"Rise with the suns and stars, Haylight, you have a conference in two hours." A server in a red and silver paneled tunic peeks in to announce. Soon the room is filled with food and different outfits to cloth me after a cleaning. I must always look as shiny as possible, though never perfect, that is the way of the Serephimral Immortal, not me. I just sit still while they try to tame my super long Auburn hair, a requirement that my hair must never be cut. Silver streaks are added around my eyes, and blue crystals to be sprinkled around my eyelids and under my brows. A shiny, iridescent gloss to my small, overly full lips and a spray of body crystals complete my look with my silver tunic. I am a living idol; they adore me, worship my all, and depict me through what I must wear. The one thing they cannot control are my eyes, I glare in them, the blue green waters try to drown any who look too deep, I make sure of it. I cannot trust any of them.

"Announcement greeting from Roaga will commence in five minutes!" the caller on the wall blares out into the blue room. Shadows under my polished door alert me to the beings on the other side, and without a knock, Caveronne and two other escorts enter.

"Today you are to state you are well, as in feeling well and happy. Tell them of the smells of the room, the way the water feels. Let them live through your new happiness. I will be to your right, and remain silent. They do not want to hear me, just all of you." Caveronne says with a perfect deep monotone. I wonder if this man has facial muscles, how can you not smile or frown or flex and eyebrow when you speak. Immortals are perfect, but they do move parts of them. What they do not do is smell, and most don't physically feel from the outside. The impenetrable skin is made so thick and protected all sensors and nerves are too deep in to feel any of the outside. So they marvel at me, someone who can feel heat and have a cold and bleed. I am a fairytale because some of the most human things like a touch were killed off with the perfection of human genetics.

Caveronne stands next to me, right side, and I know the announcement is coming. Time for me to spin a tale for the galaxies of another day in the life of the mortal. "Countdown in ten, nine, and eight…" I brace myself for the beginning of the speech I am giving. Stand tall, sit straight, smile, find my voice…find my voice… "AND ON NOW!"

"Hello all dwelling among the many stars out there. This is me, Haylight, the mortal, with my weekly lifespan update. I arrived in Roaga yesterday to a new and even lovelier home. The temperatures, again as always were perfect for my liking. I marvel at the technology of this Serephimral generation and I am gracious it has been applied to make my life so much more comfortable." Lies, I don't dwell on such meager thank you's nor do I marvel at anything anymore after what I have seen. I refocus my now attempting- to- drown- space blue eyes. "I have been given such extravagant comforts, the softest materials, the way they cloak me in a soft, warm furry material. The way the silk glides on my arms as I cover up, it sends soft calming chills throughout me. I have been so very favored to live the way that I do. I get to smell whatever I want; in fact, I think I want to smell the mint grown on the far planet KettzKaa today, maybe with a soft hint of the liloflower's clean smell mixed in. I may perforate the entire house with this today. My health is ideal at this time, no virus for over two years, no lack of sleep, I am ideal for mortal. I even found that I rest better here on Roaga, maybe that is because I am in the utmost safety of the space's best guardian, Caveronne. What lady would not sleep better with the watchful Caveronne in the nearby rooms? As always, thank you all for my life, and the wonderful dreams I owe to you all, and good suns and moons to you all." Thank the spirals that is over.

Find my voice. Well, when I do I hope it doesn't sound anything like the one I have to use for announcements. I have all these emotions, ones that were wiped out of humans with evolution into the Serephimral being. Imagine waking everyday to things like pain, happiness from a dream, anger from memories that do not belong to me, and so many other things. The worst thing, the one that I hear about and legends build on, I have never ever experienced. I may only live one lifetime, and in that lifetime, I may never know love.

"Time to get you recleaned for the exploration of Roaga today." Caveronne enters and interrupts.


	3. Chapter 3

Roaga is a place of eerie beauty. The green skies above sparkle and glow like Emeralds under a dense light. Iridescent sand shines covering the land in mass dunes like a million or more tiny diamonds coating the land, just to make it seem to glow more. Chills come more than they go, the air here is frigid, even with the outer wear they have given me and the temperature shield constantly blanketing me. Every now and again you see signs of primitive life here, like a druerdre running across to the nearest tree searching for seeds. The small little winged and neon blue feathered creature stands out in a complimentary tone next to all the emerald and iridescent landscape.

I try to keep my blue tunic and thin jacket wrapped as tightly as I can around me. Sometimes I think it is better to try and pretend to be more like them, that I can't be hot or cold or tired. So I stand there, as straight as I can, mimicking Caveronne as much as possible. Back straight, head up, feet shoulder length apart, eyes dead ahead, make eyes looks angry, hands dead straight and by my side…

"Are you having fun, Haylight?" I see feel his scowl before I actually look up to see it.

"You know, some say it is wise to look to and respect those with wisdom, if one ever hopes of gaining more. Correct me if I am mistaken, but it says nothing about mocking the wise." Caveronne softly warns me. Barely even moving his mouth, making it scowl again, even now, he is still threatening. His face straight and serious and his eyes darker than earlier it would seem. As you anger him the abysses get deeper and more endless.

Every few miles here the houses pop out of the landscape, on a plateau reaching higher towards the emeralds, or in the middle of hills of iridescent dunes. After what seems like two hours on the shuttle, we arrive to the only city of Roaga, Desremphel. All you see is white skyscrapers coming off the sands and the paved ground. White and pristine and tower like skyscrapers piercing the emerald, something about this city screams look at from afar but do not enter. It doesn't matter that this is what I think though, because the guardians and, specifically Caveronne, have itinerary set for me today and one privilege I will never know is freedom, to do what I want. To run away when I want, that would be a nice freedom today. The two suns of Roaga show three in the afternoon in the sky, both burning almost neon yellow against the green.

I have heard stories of one sensation I have never had, and I have always wanted to. My ancestors, the original human race, could sit outside on earth and feel warmth, slowly blanketing their skin and warming and browning and tanning it. Sunlight, without temperature control, was something people like me once knew. Now I know that if I take off my temperature shield I am going to freeze, fairly quickly, even with two suns above me. I know that these suns will do nothing to warm me, but what a feeling that would be, to be warmed by a sun…

24 hours later, after following schedules and polite conversations with the Serephimral of Roaga, I am back to the only types of homes I know, the labs. Today another sensory experiment, one to enlighten me to get in touch even more with the nerves and stimuli inside of me. Of course, this is so they can watch which is the main real sensory they get besides hearing. Their eyes are their sense of life, smell, and taste, but not really. It's like their imaginations have adapted for all of eternity to compensate for the lack of ability to feel and enjoy things. I have a short span, and all five senses, and they are slightly jealous.

Many years ago, I am told around 1500 or so, the last humans to live completely isolated were becoming extinct on the original Earth. Much of the life there had died; temperatures were drawing closer to freezing, at a rate of 0.5 degrees a year. Over the course of the fifty previous years, temperatures slowly froze humanity and who they were in time, gave them a fixed point. It was then, the science of trying to make man more adaptive, stronger, healthier began. With the knowledge of the new ice age approaching, humanity looked to genetics to raise their endurance. Within five years, many of the genes that were found to cause abnormalities and illnesses and cancer were found, and then, over the next decade, man spent most of the world's fortune on ridding themselves of all of it. That was the start of the Serephimrals, the first step towards illuminating death. The next four years gave way to the discovery of genes that lived in those who were living to old ages without a lot of sickness. Scientists took these genes, and spread them through vaccines, along with shots that killed off bacteria that caused common sicknesses, which made those who would live to 100 live to 160 years old.

In the last fifteen years, at the start of the Ice Age, humanity became desperate, even greedy. They knew that even with longer age, some new mutation, caused from the human ability to adapt to new climates and diets, would eventually come. Two very human traits took control of the world, fear and curiosity, combining for a storm that would swallow all the last of the humans. Fear made them search for a way to outlive the Ice Age, curiosity made them push to see how far they could take that science. Instead of just being able to endure, they wanted to be able to regenerate good cells. Within the first 20 years of the New Ice Age, after 60% of the world population had died due to weather, famine, and wars for territory and supplies and food, they planned a new population. So science wanted to freeze that number, to start.

One gene, one injection, and a couple million prayers. Some human lives were lost; the gene overpowered their bodies and made them sicker than they had ever been. Some bodies rejected it, and destroyed it. In a small percentage, though, the humans started to look younger, and stronger. They complained of side effects like numbness, tingling, but nothing so serious it stopped the injections. Then, time froze with them. Scientists marveled as they watched human cells regenerate to almost completely brand new, and healthy.

One hundred years later, most of the humans who rejected the injections were dying off, and still fighting. They tried to fight even those who benefitted from the injections, but something had made the fight almost pointless. Those who their bodies responded well to the new gene had taken on some new traits, one being impenetrable skin, which aided in being able to withstand the new temperatures of the Earth, among other things. Cold, heat, weapons, and disease no longer could break the surface of the new human, skin that was too thick and the cells that made it were smaller and put together so dense nothing broke them apart. Also, it seemed each cell wall was now coated with something that caused it to block out sickness, nothing could get in or out of the cells. Trying to fight the new human was like trying to break titanium in one's hands, impossible and saddening, because not only could you even mark it, you couldn't make it less beautiful either.

So with genes that did not age, that could regenerate, and skin that could not be marked, and minds that were now always able to remember and learn, the first Serephimrals walked the earth. Humans lived along side of them, and even loved and bred with them, creating the temporary half breeds as well as the path to the final Serephimrals. Within a century, the human need for smell and taste and touch died out. No one needed these senses, they could not burn or starve or hurt, so the new human body adapted. Thus began the last days of Earth, with frozen land and frozen living humans…

I face a chamber when I wake, in which I stand in front of a dozen surfaces ahead or so. The experiment has begun for me.

"Today, we will study a human's reaction to certain surfaces." The speaker above me announces. I look behind a glass wall ahead, at the scientists, at the guardians, Caveronne. I know I must move forward, there is something in here I must discover, so they can watch and learn, something they cannot understand. One tile, two tiles, toward the red table. Something in me has made me anxious, awake, really awake, my fingers and skin crawling and buzzing. I feel slightly nauseous, and my heart is like a timer, counting my every second, I can count every second I experience. They hyper sensitized me again…

The red table feels soft; a light covering of fur on it makes me want to stroke the entire thing. I would imagine the sensors on my hands and feet and face are registering waves of nerve responses, like a pretty pattern for the room beyond the glass walls. That is all they get, pretty patterns on monitors. I get to feel so many things. I notice a pretty green table ahead, I walk feeling the slip and smooth of the tile beneath my bare feet so comforting. Running my hands, cautiously, nervously over the surface, nothing registers, not at first. Not until this sting hits my hand, and an itch. Poison, a kind that can cause a skin reaction. I see the scientists are not playing fair today. I pull away from the table and focus on the black one, with sparkling black granite ahead. It's so pretty, like I can see thousands of stars in a black sky. I must touch it; I must touch the stars…

Searing pain in my right hand as I make contact with the table. They heated the table to a high heat, too high for my skin to take. My skin is wrinkling and almost drying out faster than time could allow.

"Help! I need tonic!" Caveronne is my guardian; he must respond it is his job. There beyond the glass, I see those dark eyes watching me, and he is not moving, not even speaking. He just watches my pain, of course he does, he has no clue what pain is. None of them do, that's why I am in here, that's why I must create pretty patterns on monitors for them to watch. They want to see my reactions, and take samples of my skin to observe human nature; I am just a test subject, and a job to Caveronne.

I wonder if any original human nature exists inside of them anymore….

A guardian ahead signals me to move forward with his hands. A light blue table ahead, I assume I should touch it to please them. Something slippery, wet, cool, its water, this table has been soaked with water, and it helps the burn in my right hand. Closing my eyes, I rub my hand gently across the table, closing my eyes, pretending they didn't burn me or poison my other hand. I am not here, I am near a lake, this is a dream…

"Move forward Haylight please…" the speaker commands. The voice is so emotionless it almost sounds robotic. Near the end of the room is a deep magenta purple table, and it must signal the end of the experiment for me. If I touch it, allow myself to enjoy or suffer for just a few moments, then I can leave. Seven paces forward and the only hand that isn't wounded moderately, my left hand with the light rash from poison is the only option I have.

No one really thinks before touching a table, a table is not really a threatening object. We just do it, or I do, they can't touch it like I can. Touching surfaces, without thought, that is how I live. I am spending a great amount of time thinking about what the touch of this table will be like. Purple, like a flower, soft and frail and natural, maybe. Or maybe like the purple rocks of Normasty, ones that I have laid on under moonlight because even with the cool night light above the rocks stay warm, I love warmth. I wonder what purple feels like?

I allow my left hand to drop to touch swiftly, almost to shock it. Cold, very cold, and it moves, like a cold that freezes upward. My hand stiffens and throbs, way too hard. I try to pull my hand up but I can't move it, and the cold is crawling to my wrist. It burns! It's a cold that burns!

"Stop it! Stop it please! I can't move! Stop it!" I scream what feels like a dozen times before one of the scientists rushes to put a tonic on my hand and arm to undo it and heal it. Leading me out the room, I feel the first sensation outside of my hand since I woke in the room, wetness in my eyes, and on my cheeks, I had not noticed I started crying from the pain. I still feel the burning cold in my hands and fingertips, like a bad memory intending on staying.

Caveronne greets me first, well, not greets, just walks to face me. No emotion, or sympathy, or compassion, he just comes to get me. His large arms swing in a stiff motion as he walks, and his carved jaw has never seemed more stone like. I hate statues, by the way… Caveronne the still, coming to not aid or protect me but to hover around me…

"You saw me in there, and did nothing, yet you guard me?" I find the words being choked out of me, anger and emotion making them seem so much smaller.

"Haylight, you should be thankful, you can experience such wonderful sensations such as wet and soft and cold, why not let others witness this miracle?" His voice is steady, deep, monotone, and even slightly sarcastic, maybe he enjoys watching me hurt.

Find my voice. Ok. Somewhere deep inside me, it's coming alive. Pain, and anger, and hurt and complete lack of understanding for what they do. There it is, brewing, rising fast and upward. Find my voice…

Wait, that isn't my voice, it's my hand, I hit him, I hit Caveronne in the face. My hand was rising, and it met with his cheek half a second ago along with my shout of "Mirror!" I know that is mean, calling him that but Mirrors mimic humans,but are not really the same, like the Serephimral. My hand stings and is red, but not his cheek, it is still and unfazed, but I am fazed very much.

Find my voice…I find it a little at a time when I encounter Caveronne each moment, whether I want to or not.


End file.
